A Little Respect
by Oi.Blondie
Summary: Ashley learns the hard way that just because she's "Ashley Davis", she really isn't anything special. That titles belongs to another lady.
1. Dance Grumpy Girl, Dance

**Hello all! A new Spashley fic to hopefully kick start my other story, which is suffering from some hellish writers block! **

**This has vaguely more of a plan seeing as its kinda based on my day to day life - just made far more interesting ;) Please read on and leave me some feedback in the form of a review. **

**As per usual don't own anything :)**

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Chapter 1 - Dance Grumpy Girl, Dance

First the hands landed palm down on the desk, followed quickly by a forehead. Brunette curls bounced gently as they settled around her face, forming a personal shield and allowing her dark, tired eyes to secretly close. The girl exhaled heavily and gave in.

A few moments later, just as the sweet sensation of falling asleep had started to wrap around the exhausted worker, the office door opened and her peace was shattered. The intruder walked up to the make-shift bed and placed a large to-go Starbucks on the coaster, then returned to her seat opposite. After tapping on her keyboard for the length of a curt e-mail, the girl picked up her own drink and reclined slightly in her chair, looking over the two desks at her friend.

"So how did it go Ash?" The girl asked with what appeared to be genuine interest.

The roasted beans started to have an impact almost immediately. Their scent floated up through the plastic lid and made their way to Ashley's senses. It was comforting and invigorating, like her body had decided it had fractionally more effort just by knowing the caffeine was nearby. Lifting her head off the desk and settling into a one handed chin rest position, the grumpy girl lifted her coffee and sipped before responding.

"It went." She shrugged and sipped again. Caffeine flooding her body, giving her a liquid kick up the ass.

"That good?"

"Mhmm. He actually did the eyebrow."

"Oh shit" Both girls sipped in silence for a moment as the weight of the single raised brow settled, "but the article was witty, he must have found it vaguely amusing?"

"He didn't even crack a smile. Not even a smirk, barely even a tickle of a funny bone. He looked like grumpy cat."

"Bastard grumpy cat. What are you gunna do now then?"

The brunette shurgged, drank her coffee and pulled her thinking face. "I don't know, I worked so hard on that article! Stupid band with their stupid songs and their stupid hair! Urgh!" She moved her hand so she was cupping her coffee and let her head drop forward heavily, her hair once again falling into her face.

"I know how to fix this."

Ashley raised her head so her eyes were visible, blew a gust of air out of the corner of her mouth to move a rogue ringlet from her face and looked at her companion incredulously. "Oh Chels, the wisest of us all, pray tell, how do you plan to fix this?"

"Well," She began as she opened up a web page and started typing, "I can't make Crawford any less of a dick, and I can't go back and make that band sound better for you because, to be honest, I cannot work miracles! But. What I can do for you is this..."

Chelsea leant over her desk and turned the window blinds so the room was closed off from prying eyes and turned on her computer speakers. One more click of the mouse and the techno 80s beat started to sound.

A smile spread across previously solemn features as the tune registered with the memory bank. "Chels I can't, we're at work!"

"Course we can," she said standing up, "IT always have the radio on and this is only for one song." She set the song back to the beginning and pointed. "You, up, now. Dance Grumpy Girl, Dance."

As the intro played for a second time, Ashley stood from her desk and started to to move her head in time to the music. As the beat started her hips followed and suddenly she grabbed a promotional umbrella from the rack and spun around on the spot, leaning into the handle as she sang,"I tried to discover, a little something to make me sweeter..."

The music played and Ashley sang almost perfectly. Being in a different building to the management really did have its perks.  
Using the umbrella as both a microphone and pole to dance on, Ashley put on a mini-show and felt the tense knots in her shoulders start to relax. As the music played she started to throw in a little Frank Sinatra style and spun the umbrella in circles as she pretended to dock her cap.

The two girls had only known eachother for three months but they had formed a fast and strong friendship, built on their mutual dislike of their line manager and love of 80s movies. Their first day had resulted in a conversation about how much they wished their love lives could have an 80s movie ending - a Judd Nelson pumping a fist to the sky, John Cusack holding a boombox outside their window or even riding off on a lawn mower with Patrick Dempsey, but no, as Chelsea so cruelly pointed out, John Hughes did not direct their lives.

At the chorus, Chelsea ended her solo desk-dancing and slid up to her friend, wrapping arms around a slender waist to dance in tandem. "Soooooo, I hear you calllllling, oh baby pleeeeeeeeease..." The girls leant back dramatically and really felt the next couple of lines, acting as though they were singing directly to their manager.

"Give a little respect, tooooo-oooh meeeeee!"

After dancing out the rest of the song like finalists on Dancing With The Stars, the girls collapsed into their respective desk chairs and looked at each their for a moment before bursting into deep belly laughter.

They took matching gulps of coffee to refresh their dry mouths before reality hit and the conversation started once again. "So, talk to me Davies. What did he say?"

The brunette reclined in her chair, taking advantage of the still closed blinds and flung her booted feet on to the desk. "He just didn't seem to like it. He doesn't seem to like me! I can't win."

"He does like you, he's just a terrible manager! He doesn't know how to manage two fiesty, intelligent women. That's his problem not yours Ash."

The curls exhaled deeply. "I know and I agree but it's hard when he's constantly on my back" she flung herself forward and sat up in a professional manner, "I just need to man up and stay strong and keep going!"

"Good attitude Davies. Just crack on and re-write that article and I'll proof it for you, maybe provide you with some funky graphics or illustrations?"

She smiled at her kind friend and nodded appreciatively, "I think I love you a bit Afro-features."

"I thought I wasn't your type?" The artist winked at the writer.

All was calm again as the pair knuckled down to work. No more than 15 minutes had passed but Ashley had come full circle, from being seconds away from quitting, to typing away furiously - determined to win the respect of a man who appeared to not deserve her efforts.

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**There we have Ashley, please leave a review and ill maybe introduce Spencer next ;)**


	2. An Intimate Venue

**Hello guys, well nearly 400 of you guys read it and only one kind soul reviewed :( That makes this writer feel sad and unloved like a Christmas jumper in July...**

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Chapter 2 - An Intimate Venue

It had been an unfairly long week. Ashley had failed to gain the approval of her horrendous manager, Crawford and did not want a new week to be beginning already.

Crawford was a thirty-something, apparently married, slightly overweight man of no meaning. Nothing about him was definite, except that he was definitely the bane of Ashley's life. Since she had been with the company he done a complete 180, going from over friendly to hating on her very existence. It may have been something to do with the fact she was a walking rainbow flag. But like everything else to do with this man, she couldn't be sure. So she blamed her work and her attitude. Usually the two things that she was the most proud of.

She worked harder than anyone else at the company and had always had an edge over the others thanks to her ability to switch from bitch to kiss-ass almost instantly. You did not want to piss her off. When the frown lines appeared, the eyes squinted and the hand run through a bunch of curls to dump them on the other side of her hair - you knew you were in the shit. Mostly this was felt by anyone below her. Being constantly belittled by her superiors, Ashley would occasionally find herself regaining control and respect by verbally attacking the lazy receptionists and runners. She would always feel terrible when she returned home and replayed the interactions - but she'd never apologise, that's just too much weakness to show in this environment.

As her iPhone alarm sang out Avicii's obnoxiously catchy 'Wake Me Up', she lay in her delightfully comfortable, Egyptian cotton sheeted double bed, complete with 400 soft pillows and tried to think of any semi-reasonable excuse to not go to the office today.

Her weekend had consisted of more work. Listening to yet more new bands play at 'intimate venues', which was club speak for small, over-crowded and stinking of rancid feet. The bands hadn't even been worth all the effort, two out of the three squawked down the mic while gurning suggestively at the crowd and the third was so out of tune she had to leave in order to spare her sanity.

She had loved it once. When 'intimate venue' had meant small, candle lit tables, a first come first served ticketing system and the smell of beer filling the room. Music was her passion. She had making coffee songs, driving to school songs, heartbreak songs and gym songs, everyone had been good in its own way. All of them picked up before they became famous, because she loved to be the first to hear a band and spot the talent. But now it was her career and she felt old and disillusioned. To be fair, the standard of bands had dropped drastically over the years, last week's best of the bunch had actually sung about cheese.

_"I could have tuberculosis...hmm maybe a bit Ye Olde English...a serious case of the flu, the kind that leave you in bed for days...no weeks!" _She attempted a fake cough, _"That won't do. A broken leg! Is it too much to fling yourself down the stairs? Maybe just a finger then, or a nail….no, not enough. Women's problems? Crawford, I'm PMS-ing so badly I think my ovaries are setting up their own civil war with the rest of my body...No. I would be fired on the grounds of extreme gross-ness. URGH!"_

When Avicii finished singing, signalling she was about to stumble into "you dont have time for a shower" territory, the brunette reluctantly swung her legs out of the bed and forced her feet to guide her towards the bathroom.

"Fuck you life, you cruel bastard."

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After a swift shower, throwing together an outfit that said "I'm pushing the boundaries of smart-casual", applying enough make-up to pass as decent in society and tieing her curly locks in a loose ponytail, Ashley legged it to her Lotus. Her pride and joy. Her baby.

Somehow, after all that, she had managed to miss the rush-hour traffic and found herself barely early for work. As the traffic light went red, she spied a small coffee shop boasting "The finest brew in LA - Probably". Liking their arrogance, she moved into the other lane and pulled into a space.

Inside it was warm and welcoming. The smell of coffee had always relaxed her, but this was something more. The fresh breakfast rolls, squeezed orange juice and gentle music from the radio made the entire experience enjoyable. This was what an intimate venue should be.

Adorning the walls were music posters featuring a variety of bands, some of which had made it big, others were just starting out but both shared the space with equality. Interspersed with these were photographs, some framed, others thrown up with blu-tac and drawing pins, of the bands in the posters playing live, of the cafe's customers sitting chatting on the battered sofa and some were just beautiful cityscapes. Every one was beautiful in its own way and Ashley was captivated.

After a moment stood staring, she turned her attention to the chalkboard of coffees and made her selection, before a lilting feminine voice dragged her back to the present.

Brown eyes clocked long blonde hair, that like hers, was in a messy high ponytail and a body that was the perfect specimen of the female form, even in her loose fitting jeans, t-shirt and apron. She had a kind smile that showed a row of perfect teeth and electric blue eyes that squinted slightly against the sunshine.

"Excuse me ma'am, I said can i get you anything?" She tried again as Ashley pulled herself together.

"Hey, yeah...urm...I'll just get a latte, with double shot..thanks." The girl smiled again and turned to make the order. Ashley watched as toned arms turned dials, pushed buttons and poured liquid. Then suddenly that arm was very close to her and a drink was placed down on the counter.

"You really do need that coffee hey?" She joked.

"What?"

"I said, is that everything for you?"

"Oh," Ashley reached into her pockets and pulled out a bill, handing it to the beautiful barista, "sorry, yeah I'm urm...a bit spaced. Early morning ya know."

"No problem at all," she handed over the change and the brunette felt shivers as fingers brushed against her palm, "lets hope that perks you up some!"

The brunette blushed as the girls words made her giggle inside like 14 year old boy.

"Yeah, here's hoping. Thanks."

She walked out of the cafe and climbed into her car.

_"Who the hell is that girl?!"_

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**Please don't treat me like that poor, poor Holiday sweater. Show me some love...**


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